


A Good Day to DUI

by YouNeedAUsername222



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Blow Jobs, Cop!Negan, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Irresponsible behaviour all round, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 00:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30080592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouNeedAUsername222/pseuds/YouNeedAUsername222
Summary: In an attempt to dodge a speeding ticket, Carl resorts to flirting with the attractive cop who's pulled him over. It's surprisingly effective.
Relationships: Carl Grimes/Negan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25





	A Good Day to DUI

**Author's Note:**

> I have literally no idea why I wrote this...

It's late August, warm-ish, and almost midnight. It's not pitch black despite the late hour and Carl, behind the wheel, is heading home from a friend's house. For most of the evening, he'd hung out with a small group, including his insufferable high school bully who, for some reason, was welcomed. He'd arrived late and left early because of this, a habit he doesn't plan on holding on to.

He's perhaps a tiny bit intoxicated because he kept stealing sips of other people's drinks, but not enough to warrant paying the extortionate price of the local taxi service (daylight robbery on wheels, as the community dubs it). Especially as it's only a twenty-minute drive and he's utilizing the most unused route in the area.

The deserted highway stays that way, only the whirring of his engine to keep him company. That is, until the tell-tale flash from a pair of headlights appears out of nowhere a little way behind him, accompanied by a siren flicking on, then off.

"Shit..." Carl says aloud. His dad is going to kill him. He clocks a lay-by to his right and pulls in when he reaches it. By that point, the cop car is right behind him and does the same.

In his wing mirror, Carl sees a tall, powerful-looking man, probably hanging onto his forties by a thread. His black boots crunch menacingly across the gravel, taking his time. There's no way it's not some sort of intimidation tactic to force respect and deter funny business.

Carl rolls down his window. He doesn't know whether to shut his engine off or not but he does anyway. It helps the environment so he's practically singlehandedly saving the polar ice caps right now. Maybe karma will smile upon him and he'll be let off with a verbal warning. He's not above using a little charm to get out of a ticket, either, but he doesn't think it'll work. This guy - who is closer now, so Carl can catch a glimpse of his devastatingly attractive face - is probably straight and Carl will end up looking like a fool.

"Can you hazard a guess at why I pulled you over, kid?" His voice is pretty unique and Carl instantly feels his face heating up. Maybe he _will_ employ the use of some friendly charm.

"Because you want to take my flirting abilities for a test drive, officer?" He probably shouldn't try this charade but whatever. He's lightly buzzed and honestly, kind of digging this cop who's resting a hand on where his window is rolled all the way down. He's probably sensed that Carl is trouble and wants to prevent him from closing it if he tries.

There's a sigh. "You seem smarter than that, kid. Speedin' ain't cool. License and registration," the man holds a tanned hand out expectantly and Carl sighs, rooting around in the glove compartment. He hands over his paperwork.

Hedging his bets, as he so often does, Carl leans closer and rests his chin on his crossed arms on the window frame. "I think I've seen you before, officer-" he flicks his gaze to the name tag pinned to the front of the cop's leather jacket. This man has impeccable style, and clearly treats uniform policy with the same respect as an online shopper might treat a terms and conditions page, "-Negan." He smiles up at him with soft eyes, "in my dreams." 

Negan raises an eyebrow, obviously hiding a smirk, "well, _Carl Grimes, nineteen, license expiry date two weeks from now_ , that _is_ a new one," he glances the boy over when he looks up from the paperwork. "What else you got? If you talk to me pretty enough, maybe I'll let you go without a warning."

Hell yeah, Carl thinks. Game on. "Or we can skip that whole thing and you can just fuck me in the back of your police cruiser," he says so nonchalantly that Negan blinks at him as if he's misheard. Carl's eyes tell him he hasn't, "with the sirens on. Always wanted to do that," he winks and Negan pretty much throws the paperwork back at him. He only has time to stash it on the passenger seat before Negan has pulled the door open and yanked him out. He scrambles to keep up, finding his footing even as he's basically _lifted_ from the car.

"You think you're real smart, talkin' like that, don't you, boy?" Carl is shoved face-first against his car a little too roughly. Negan is strong enough to make him think he may have made a mistake and he would be lying if he said he isn't a little nervous. This could go one of two ways. But Negan is exactly his type; tall, older, rough-looking (and feeling), with a deep voice that drips dominance.

"I know I am." He wriggles with thoughts of what Negan might do to him as his wrists are forcefully brought together behind his back.

"Hold still, you slutty little brat." Negan demands impatiently. The tell-tale _click_ of the handcuffs tell Carl he can no longer move. They're cold around his wrists and he still has wiggle-room.

He smirks to himself. He isn't going down without a fight. "I don't think that's tight enough, officer."

A grunt of annoyance precedes the man behind him pressing fully against his back, stubble brushing against Carl's ear, sending shivers down his spine. Maybe he grinds backwards a little, arches so the warm breath near his ear is even closer. The cuffs tighten nicely, "that better, you little shit?"

Carl lets out a groan of pain and effort, "fuck yeah." He squirms to get into a better position so his shoulders don't cause him too much discomfort. He still wants the cuffs tighter, though, and he fights off a moan when Negan pulls him away from the car by his wrists.

"Let's see if you're really about it," Negan says in a low voice after scanning their surroundings; it's dark and no one's driven up this road since they got here. Carl is walked around to the other side of his car, away from the road view, just in case. He turns when Negan stops, and the cop puts one hand on his shoulder, observing him smugly. "On your knees."

The cuffs prevent him from sinking to his knees gracefully and he kind of falls to the ground instead, shaky with anticipation and excitement. He's subtly trembling and he hopes Negan doesn't notice. Still, he's unable to believe his luck, even as the gravel scrapes him through his jeans. His heartbeat quickens at the sight of the man above him undoing his belt, smirking down at him with a look of complete lust that mirrors Carl's own.

The boy follows the movement of Negan's hand as he gives himself a few strokes, right in front of Carl's face. It isn't long before his tongue is darting out to swipe over the tip of the man's rapidly hardening dick. He does it a couple of times, trying to figure out how he's going to do this without his hands. It's not his first rodeo, but Negan is bigger than his handful of one-night-stands and looks harder to please. Still, he's up for a challenge. "Don't tease, kid."

Carl nods, glancing up through his fringe as he takes Negan's cock into his mouth. He stills for a second, working his tongue until a commanding hand strokes its way into his hair. He continues doing what he's doing, Negan's grip getting slowly tighter, almost to the point of pain. Good. He wants to be controlled. "Good boy..."

Everything Negan says makes him want to run a marathon, jump off a building, learn to pilot a 747, and jerk off so hard he doesn't need to do it again for a month, all in the same breath. His voice is hypnotic and rough, more of a growl than anything, and it's making him so very hard in the imprisoning confines of his jeans.

"Ah shit, kid, you done this before?" Negan laughs breathily.

Carl, whose mouth is kind of busy right now, hums in affirmation, bobbing his head faster.

"Of course you have, you're a goddamn slut. Probably have some sort of cop kink, huh? Bet your record's spotless, there's no way you haven't fucked your way out of a ticket before," Negan grins down at him, his breathing changing ever so slightly and his hips stuttering. He lets out a low moan which has Carl shuffling forward until he's almost under the man's legs to let him grip his hair more tightly. He goes pliant to let Negan fuck his mouth at his own pace, which, Carl soon finds out, is fast.

"You better be ready to swallow, boy. Use that pretty mouth for somethin' other than smartass comments," Negan groans. Carl is so ready, and a couple of seconds later, he's swallowing hard, tasting the not-pleasant-but-not-unpleasantness he was expecting. He slowly pulls off of Negan's dick, licking his sore lips as the cop rights his jeans and redoes his belt. Everything he does is so erotic, carrying himself with confidence, "fucking Christ. You could suck dick for America... stand up." He orders, not helping the boy, who stumbles up without the use of his arms. They're still cuffed tightly against his lower back and the metal is chafing, which he assumes is intentional.

Carl can't hide the aching hardness beneath his jeans. He feels so exposed under Negan's watchful eye. He must look a little disheveled, his hair probably an unruly whirlwind atop his head but he doesn't care. He can't begin to express the level of horny he is right now, and how much he wants Negan to fix it. "Still want to write me a ticket?"

"I want to do a great many things to you, sweetheart, but I gotta be honest, writing a speeding ticket is low as fuck on that list right now," they're so close and suddenly Negan's hand is there between his legs, cupping him too gently and it's all he can do not to rut into the touch. He gasps softly, Negan's eyes burning a hole in his face. He's got this guarded expression, eyes slightly squinted like he's trying to figure Carl out. A tiny snort of laughter escapes him at how hard the boy is.

Negan pushes him up against the car, the boy's hands squished awkwardly between himself and the door. Negan is still palming him but not hard enough. He's teasing, waiting for Carl to react and it's so frustrating that his head is swimming, "please..."

The corners of Negan's mouth start to rise, "promise you'll be a good boy and not move for me?"

Carl nods enthusiastically, then stops, because that's moving.

"Words, boy, use your words. If you want me to get you off, you gotta talk to me," Negan lightens his touch, which has Carl wanting to chase it, but he can't.

"I- I'll stay still," he promises. Then there're fingers wrapped tightly in his hair, pulling his head back against the car. He squirms, half-moaning and half-hissing at the sensation, eyes closed and lower lip between his teeth.

"So damn responsive..."

He must look like a desperate teenage mess (because he is) and when Negan dips his hand below his waistband, he loses the thin façade of composure he had built up. Negan's hands, one expertly working his dick and the other in his hair to pin him to the car, wring breathy little whimpers from him. But he doesn't move. As hard as it is to not thrust into Negan's large, calloused hand, he doesn't, which is a damn near impossible feat given the circumstances.

Negan kisses him, which comes as a surprise. His lips and stubble scrape Carl's face, reminding him of their sizeable age gap, and it just turns him on more. He's surrounded completely by Negan, controlled and at his mercy. Carl moves his lips in tandem, trying to keep up.

There are teeth grazing his lower lip before being replaced by Negan's tongue, many years of experience rendering Carl breathless. He's so present, it's overwhelming. "You taste like you licked the floor of a damn bar..."

"I only had a couple of sips," Carl clarifies semi-truthfully, his breath coming hard and fast against Negan's face. He's so close and he just needs the man to speed his hand up. "Please... go faster..." He wishes he could touch Negan, scratch his nails down his back or tug at his jacket in encouragement. The cuffs dig into his wrists, serving as a reminder of how in control he isn't and how much he loves it.

"Seeing as you're being such a good little slut for me and staying still..." Negan does as Carl asked. It's noticeable and immediately draws an exclamation from the boy. His head hits the car behind him again. Their kiss continues, bruising and hot, but the boy still doesn't move, even when he starts finding it difficult to concentrate and Negan releases his hair to yank the neckline of his shirt down. He presses kisses to the boy's exposed throat, warm and almost soft as Carl comes explicitly hard over Negan's hand with a gasping whine. This is so not how he had envisaged his night going but he can't complain.

"Holy shit..." Carl says as he tries to get his thoughts in the correct and working order, "have I earned my way out of these yet?" He asks with a joking lilt to his tone, turning his body to motion to the handcuffs.

"What, you really think I'm gonna let your sorry ass go just 'cause you sucked me off? If anything, that's _more_ of a reason to book you." There's a slight glint to Negan's narrowed eyes as he says this but all Carl can think of is how unfair that is.

"Come on, man, you can't be serio-"

Negan, grinning from ear to ear, interrupts, "I'm messin' with ya, kid! Jeez, can't you take a damn joke?" He produces the keys from his pocket and turns the boy around to push his front against the car again. Being manhandled always does it for Carl; he might have to speed more often when Negan is on duty.

"Very funny. I promise I'm laughing so hard on the inside."

Negan's mouth is close at his ear again, "for the record, I'd recommend waiting until you're _out_ of the cuffs before making any more flippant remarks like that. Just a touch of professional advice." Carl would hardly call Negan 'professional'.

Once the handcuffs are off, Carl begins the much-needed reunion with his blood circulation, flexing his wrists and rubbing them to invite some feeling back.

"You got plans for the rest of the night?" Negan asks casually. He's rooting around in his inner jacket pocket.

Carl shrugs as he walks around the car, "always wanted to try armed robbery," he jokes, receiving a pointed, scornful look, "but I'll probably just sleep for now. You?" He gets into the driver's seat, vaguely aware of the older man doing something or other with a pen while he puts his paperwork, still strewn on the passenger seat, in a safe place.

"Nothin' interesting. Just another hour of this godawful shift. It's a ghost town out here, kid, like policing a graveyard." Negan chuckles, and he leans down to rest one elbow on Carl's window, handing him something. It's a piece of cigarette paper with a phone number on it. "Call me sometime. And consider that an officer's orders. Almost as serious as a doctor's, except you ain't keepin' me away with an apple."

"I will." Carl promises. He knows he shouldn't, he really shouldn't, given the reason why everything just happened, but he can't help himself; he darts forward to plant a cheeky kiss on Negan's lips. The older man just gives him a smirk hidden behind a disparaging look and straightens.

Carl drives away, careful to stay within the confines of the speed limit. Finally, flirting with a cop worked. Said cop, however, is wildly irresponsible and definitely in the wrong job.


End file.
